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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037306">a bane for two</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxaq/pseuds/paxaq'>paxaq</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Deleted Scenes, Emotional Edging, M/M, No Smut, POV Arthur, Pining, S5E1, Sexual Tension, Tension, and could it be?, emotional...tension, is there such a thing as, not even kissing, only one bed only one...stag trap, rip kissing, slowest of burns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:00:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxaq/pseuds/paxaq</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>it's that ep-the uh oh caught in the ropes ep. canon gives us 2 sleepovers as well as merlin in arthur's lap. what's it like?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. side by side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you know what it is!!!! the rope scene. but not just the rope scene—we get a double whammy here folks, canon back to back sleepovers. we’re starting with sleepover number 1, which i adore even more than the ropes. the morning after is almost like watching them smooch.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s the furthest north Arthur’s been in years.</p><p>“It’s freezing,” says Merlin, hopping up and down. “Why couldn’t Morgana plot her evils somewhere nice, like the seaside, or a clear, sunny meadow?”</p><p>Arthur spots a crevice tucked under the dead roots of a collapsed tree. It’s plenty off any path, and well guarded on three sides.</p><p>“We can spend the night here,” he says, ducking his head in. He turns to Merlin, who’s looking very disgruntled, rubbing his arms. “No fire. Don’t even think about it. It’s too dangerous.”</p><p>“You live to torture me,” says Merlin, but he doesn’t look surprised. He follows Arthur into the tree cave, and putts around, rearranging rocks and leaves for a makeshift nature bedroll. Arthur watches him, sitting with his hands on his knees, mind elsewhere. He knows his knights can hold their own, but Morgana…he has no field of understanding on what she might do, what she’s capable of. Uther’s futile campaign to eliminate all magic has put him at a severe strategic disadvantage. He’s had no useful education on the scope of sorcery. <em>Morgana could have taught you</em>, whispers an evil little voice in his head. He remembers nights sitting by her side as she woke screaming from nightmares. With practiced regret, he pushes the voice away.</p><p>Merlin pats down a last armful of leaves and faces Arthur, chest puffed. “It’s ready!” he trumpets, arms wide. “A bed fit for the greatest king in Albion.”</p><p>“There’s no Albion yet, Merlin,” says Arthur, but he can’t help smiling at the pride of his servant, and the indistinguishable pile of leaves at his feet. He’s just in time, night’s settling in. Arthur exhales some of the tension in his shoulders—it’s a relief to see Merlin smiling again. He’s been a complete stormcloud since they left on this mission. No trace of his usual ridiculousness lightening the dangerous rescue trips.</p><p>“Well, let’s have a test,” says Merlin, stepping back and gesturing for Arthur to lie down. Arthur obliges, Merlin sculpting dirt under his head for a pillow.</p><p>“Very comfortable,” says Arthur. “I might just keep you yet.” Merlin brushes his hands off delightedly. “I’ll need a rubdown of my feet as well, if we’re to press on any further tomorrow.”</p><p>Merlin’s face contorts immediately, his mouth dropping. “I am not—“</p><p>Arthur bursts out laughing.</p><p>“That would be foul!”</p><p>“Oh come on, are my feet really so abominable? You’ve faced much worse over the years.”</p><p>“You haven’t had a bath in days. That’s—that’s—I’m not touching that.”</p><p>Arthur frowns with affront. “You’ve never had a proper bath your entire life, I’d hold your tongue.” He lifts his head from the pillow-mound. “What about your bed? Or did you use all the leaves in the forest on mine?”</p><p>“Beds, as well as baths, are a luxury only Camelot’s finest may enjoy,” says Merlin with a bow of his head. “I figured I’d take first watch.” The light’s dropping quickly, and with it, any traces of warmth. Arthur starts crunching to keep up his body temperature. Merlin’s back to rubbing his arms.</p><p>“We should stay close,” Arthur says, “and inside this cave. No watch. Far safer to not be seen, plus we need to keep warm.” Merlin continues standing, his face unreadable. “I won’t bite. Here, have some leaves.” Arthur fluffs the space next to him.</p><p>“Don’t kick me,” says Merlin.</p><p>“I don’t kick.”</p><p>“Who’s slept on the floor of your bedchambers, listening to you thrash all night long?” The effect of his dig is lost by the chattering of his teeth. It’s completely dark now. Despite his endless energy to nag, Merlin is shivering violently.</p><p>“Here,” says Arthur, “if we lie with our sides pressed, we’ll create a hearth of heat between us that should sustain the night.” Merlin gives him a long look. “Basic knight training Merlin, if you ever bothered to learn anything.”</p><p>But once they’re lying down, legs and torsos aligned, Arthur does have to admit that it feels a bit strange. Has he never been this close to Merlin? How is that possible? After all these years of Merlin attending him, being by his side on patrols and quests, surely they must have. His legs feel even bonier than Arthur imagined. It’s a wonder he can keep up at all, he refuses to do any sort of training to build muscle. Merlin has lain himself strategically lower, so their difference in height is on Arthur’s advantage. His slim torso, pressing shallow breaths against Arthur’s chainmail, is so different than the sturdiness of any of his knights, their boisterous breathing and burly arms crossed over their chests. It’s not even similar to Gwen, who’s soft and warm, like a freshly baked bun. Merlin’s lithe body is cool, like a draught of creek water, or fresh green leaves after it rains. <em>What am I prattling on about?</em> Arthur shifts and folds his own arms over his chest. “See?” he says, “warm now?”</p><p>“Yes, sire,” says Merlin, but even he can’t be huffy, for Arthur was right; the heat their two bodies make in contact has completely rid his body of chills. They’re both quiet for awhile, Arthur with his arms folded, Merlin fiddling with his fingers and twitching his outside leg. Arthur turns his head and gets a deep whiff of Merlin’s body, sweat and wet dirt. He feels a rush of affection for his manservant, small and shivery and tucked up beside him. How does he survive any of this? He’s like a mouse. Or a rabbit. Or…a small colt. He pictures Merlin’s angular body tripping over some menial obstacle in the castle and stifles a laugh. <em>You’re so twitchy.</em> He can’t even see Merlin’s face for his ears sticking out and blocking the view. He stifles another laugh. He considers saying something, but what would he say? ‘Sorry we don’t lie side by side more often’? That makes no sense, and he doesn’t need to inflate Merlin’s head any larger. <em>Or his ears.</em> This time he can’t help himself, the snort escaping into the night.</p><p>“What’s going on over there?”</p><p>“Just thinking about how you’re an idiot.”</p><p>“I’m not even doing anything,” Merlin grumbles.</p><p>“Mm,” says Arthur, “for now. Goodnight, Merlin.” Merlin sighs, tucking his hands between his thighs.</p><p>“Goodnight, my lord.” The sarcasm is dripping.</p><p>“You treasonous clot—“ Arthur pins one of Merlin’s legs with his own and locks his head in a hold.</p><p>“See if you can sleep through that!”</p><p>“Arthur—“</p><p>“No, no, you’ll be taught respect!”</p><p>“Arthur, I can’t sleep like this!”</p><p>Arthur grins and shuts his eyes, feigning deep slumbering breaths. Merlin grumbles, but stops fighting, resigning himself to a night stuck with Arthur’s elbow wrapped underneath his chin. Arthur feels warmth spread through him, not just from the heat trapped at his side, but a deeper warmth from his core, like a ray of sun. He relaxes into it, feeling sleep come easily. His thoughts from earlier float back to him as he slips away—<em>sorry we don’t lie side by side more often</em>. He exhales, still smiling, tugging Merlin’s head, and lets himself slip away to unconsciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is almost more of a prologue, it ended up being so short.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. caught</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn’t want to write the scenes that we see, so recap: morgana and her men are on the hunt for arthur, arthur wakes to morgana’s voice and covers merlin’s mouth with his hand (hot) that was already on merlin’s face (hotx2). The boys wander around for the better part of a day, merlin gets too hungry and runs to some trap-bait rabbits, arthur dives after him (of course) and they both get snapped up in a net (for a bear? pretty sure those didn’t exist in the uk then. an elk? no idea. unless morgana’s men knew they’d be able to catch arthur with a literal trap?) they spend the rest of day in there, and the evening, and…dim the lights…it’s night…here we go.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Arthur’s angry for most of the day, and the night. How could he not be? There are times, it is true, that he finds Merlin’s naivete endearing. This was not of those times. Where was his head, honestly? They’re on the run, and he’s blathering away all morning, about god knows what. Everything is carried on Arthur’s shoulders. The fate of his kingdom, the lives of his knights, the threat of Morgana’s deadly sorcery, must he also add making sure his servant doesn’t bumble into traps meant for animals?</p><p>Merlin knows it’s his fault, too. He hasn’t said anything all day. In different circumstances, something that would concern Arthur. For now, he’s pushed his body as far away from his manservant as possible, an incredibly uncomfortable feat considering the ropes dumping them together. He periodically tenses his legs and back to keep his muscles from spasming and falling asleep.</p><p>It’s so frustrating. Sometimes Merlin seems so aware, tapped into a wisdom and logic coming from the earth itself. And yet he refuses to train or learn strategy, seems allergic to anything concerning the ways of the court, and makes the most aggravating and idiotic mistakes. Arthur can never get a handle on him and the inconsistency is…confusing. Boggling. Arthur can hear a different Morgana in his head, chiding him playfully—<em>You don’t know how to act properly with your servants</em>. He remembers a dinner where Merlin found it amusing to mime refilling Arthur’s cup all night, Arthur continuing to find himself tipping air into his mouth instead of wine, trying to keep a collected appearance in front of his father, lecturing on some patrol gone wrong. Morgana had of course missed none of it, goading him with remarks on how divine the wine was tonight. She was right, in some regard—look where he ended up with Gwen. <em>And look where Morgana ended up with Gwen</em>, says a present day Arthur, and he brings back the cap for his memories.</p><p>Merlin hasn’t moved in hours, like a dead log. He’s folded almost in half to fit, facing away from Arthur.</p><p>Arthur sighs, relenting.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” he asks quietly.</p><p>“Splendid. I’ve always wanted to vacation in a hammock.”</p><p>Arthur jostles him with his shoulder, the trap jerking and swaying.</p><p>Merlin leans his head back, and Arthur can see his eyes glittering in the dark.</p><p>“I’m sorry I got us stuck here,” he mutters. “I wish I could…get us out.”</p><p>Arthur feels a surge of protectiveness.</p><p>“Yes, well, unless having hidden knives is one of your ‘many talents,’ I think we’re stuck. Let’s just get some rest, I’m sure we’ll be found in the morning, and we’ll need our energy for whatever hell that brings.”</p><p>Finally Merlin moves, stretching and rearranging his body, which sends the trap pitching all over again.</p><p>“Merlin,” Arthur growls, hands flying out to grip the rope. But it’s not enough, and he’s sent tumbling as well.</p><p>“Can you—I just—“</p><p>“Merlin, what are you—god your knees are knobbly—“</p><p>“Oh sure, smush me with your brute of a chest and insult me why don’t you—“</p><p>“Better to have some cushion than your daggers of joints, see if you can cut through the rope with one of those—“</p><p>Arthur finally rights himself, in a reasonable enough sitting position. Merlin’s long sprouty body, on the other hand, is bent at awkward angles, crammed on the side of the net. It’s only fair, since it’s his fault they’re even in this mess. He glares at Arthur.</p><p>“You look comfortable.”</p><p>“I am the king.” Merlin continues glaring. “Come on,” Arthur says, laughing at Merlin’s head, bent ridiculously towards his knees. “You’re going to have to sit on me. It’s the only way we’ll both fit comfortably enough to sleep.” All the annoyance drops from Merlin’s face, his eyes dancing. “Don’t—don’t give me that face. I can’t sit on you, you’d be flattened by morning. Just—get up, and stop sitting like a poisoned rat.”</p><p>Merlin lets go of his grip on the ropes, lowering himself carefully to where Arthur’s weight has pulled the net to its lowest point. He sets himself down, crossing his legs over Arthur’s to balance the net. The dead rabbits hang between their heads.</p><p>“I’m in your lap,” says Merlin.</p><p>Indeed, thinks Arthur. “If you ever breathe a word of this to anyone—“</p><p>Merlin holds up his palms. “I’m the best secret-keeper in Camelot.”</p><p>Arthur rolls his eyes. “Comforting.”</p><p>Merlin is again slumped a head below his king. It would almost feel natural to drop his arms around Merlin’s front, dragging him against Arthur’s chest. Their legs are tangled up in each other. <em>Somehow I’ve found myself wrapped around my servant for the second night in a row.</em> Arthur’s again struckthat they’ve never been this close before. He supposes he’s never been this close to anyone, not even Leon, or any of the knights. Is that wrong? They’re his closest friends, more than brothers. And yet perhaps there is some propriety in being the king. But Merlin—Merlin dresses him, draws his bath! Surely…he looks over at the boy. I can smell his head, he thinks. That’s definitely never happened before.</p><p>Merlin catches Arthur gazing down at him, and grins with mischief.</p><p>“Oh, Arthur!” he swoons, pitching his voice higher. “Carry me to our chambers!”</p><p>Arthur shoots him a withering look. “If you’re trying to imitate Gwen, it is not like that.”</p><p>“Oh?” Merlin quirks an eyebrow. “How is it then?” He ducks his chin and gazes up from a hooded brow. “My lord,” he says thickly. “Take me to our chambers.”</p><p>“Merlin!” Arthur swats at him, wrinkling his nose. Merlin succumbs to the blows, laughing. “That’s obscene! It’s not—we’re not—like that.”</p><p>Merlin grows quiet. The words between them breathe delicately, like a butterfly. He licks his lips.</p><p>“What do you mean?” he asks carefully. Arthur doesn’t respond. “You’re not…ravaging Gwen every night?”</p><p>“That’s the Queen you’re talking about,” says Arthur in a warning tone. They sit in silence, neither of them moving. Then Arthur sighs. Propriety be damned, he’s already got his manservant sitting in his lap.</p><p>“Gwen and I aren’t like that,” he says simply. “Not that I—don’t get me wrong, I love her and have never known a more beautiful woman. But that’s not…how we are with each other.”</p><p>Merlin places a light hand on Arthur’s wrist, who starts in surprise.</p><p class="p1">“That’s perfectly natural, Arthur. Sorry to tease.” He gives him a small pat, before taking his hand back. “I did wonder. You know. About the lack of a baby.”</p><p>“Oh, and I suppose you’re pulling maids into all the dark corners of Camelot? Readying an heir apparent for the throne of King’s manservant?”</p><p>“Obviously not. I’m much too busy for that. And I already have a baby I need to keep an eye on constantly.”</p><p>Arthur whacks him around the ears and points a finger in his face.</p><p>“You’re the baby.”</p><p>“Yes, sire.”</p><p>Arthur settles back and nods off, sleeping fitfully, half-aware of his face pressed into a skein of rope, or his back aching, or his arms twitching to find a more natural position. After an hour? three? he wakes suddenly, fully alert. Merlin’s weight on him is too tense, too light, for him to be asleep. Arthur cracks his eyes. Sure enough, Merlin is wide awake, staring into the distance. His mirth from earlier is gone—his face is closed, stony, as it was the last campfire with the knights. He exhales deeply, wriggling his legs, wrapping them tighter through Arthur’s. His face is focused, his brow dark and heavy. Arthur frees a hand and places it atop his head. Merlin doesn’t turn, staring out into the night with a set frown.</p><p>“Mer-lin…,” Arthur sing-songs quietly. He twists Merlin’s head to face Arthur. Merlin still doesn’t look at him. Arthur can almost feel his coarse hair through his gloves. Should he take them off? Push his hair from his forehead?Smooth the frown off of his cheek? “<em>Merlin</em>,” he says again, and Merlin’s eyes snap to his. Arthur searches them. It’s not fear, he notes with surprise. It’s…anger. Cutting an edge as sharp as his cheekbones. And behind that, a black sadness, stretching deep, like the bottom of a lake. <em>I’ve seen you cry…so many times, and you’ve never looked like this.</em> They look at each other, faces still, Arthur’s hand on the top of Merlin’s head. Merlin doesn’t break the gaze, and Arthur holds it until Merlin’s mouth softens from its frown, and the bodies of water contained in his eyes wash forward. Arthur grips Merlin’s hair once, then gives him a slow ruffle.</p><p>“Whatever it is,” he says softly, “it won’t be solved by staying awake all night, glaring at the stars.” Melin gives a small scoff, but his mouth twinges with a smile. “Just…,” Arthur drops his hand to the base of Merlin’s neck. “Get some rest. And, tomorrow we keep moving.” Merlin nods, and Arthur lets out a noisy sigh, falling back into the ropes and closing his eyes. He feels Merlin do the same, his weight on Arthur’s lap shifting. “Seriously, I’m exhausted.” When Merlin doesn’t respond, Arthur cracks open an eye and covers his face with his hand. “That’s enough moping,” he growls, forcing Merlin’s head back into a sleeping position. “No more, not for the rest of the trip.”</p><p>Merlin mouths muffled protests underneath his fingers. “Get off,” he groans, one hand tugging at Arthur’s wrist. Arthur keeps his grip.</p><p>“Agreed?” He lifts the bottom of his hand.</p><p>“Yes!” Merlin splutters. Arthur drops his hand, but opens an eye again to check. Merlin quickly pulls his mouth into an obedient smile.</p><p>“Very good.” Arthur closes both eyes.</p><p>“You can’t just manhandle me whenever you want to get your way.”</p><p>“No? Seems to work quite well.”</p><p>Merlin blows a gust of air from his nose.</p><p>“And when you’re already in my lap, you trollop—”</p><p>Merlin laughs, pushing his legs against Arthur’s. <em>Finally.</em> Arthur turns his head to a more comfortable sleeping position, and the dead rabbits brush lightly next to his face. <em>God, you frustrating ass. I could just squeeze you. Crumble every idiot bone in your body. </em></p><p>“Now shut up, both in your head and out. No more keeping me up with your brooding.” He feels the breath from Merlin’s smile brush over his face. He’s a pearl of warmth in his lap, his body releasing its heaviness onto Arthur’s.</p><p>He’ll open his eyes once more, at the face turned toward his own. He can’t tell through the rabbits if he’s awake, watching, his nose moving slightly with his breath, his shoulder rising into him with each inhale, his eyes open and black, like the surface of water. This body beside him, this man at his side, his reflection, himself. No moon cuts through the darkness. Through the two boys lying together, bodies cupped and mirrored, held in a trap.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>one thing I find very ~curious~ in the supposed canon merthurless world, is that arthur and gwen are apparently married for years, and…there’s no baby? I understand plot-wise why they didn’t make it happen, but if arthur and gwen were soooooo in love and married it’s just…they couldn’t have prevented every single baby for that many years. hmmm! curious, very curious! is arthur the once and future ace king? or a sweet comphet baby?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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